At noon, according to the usage of the Channel Islands, the bell sounded for dinner. Those dined who desired. Some passengers had brought with them provisions, and were eating merrily on the afterdeck. Clubin did not eat.
While this eating was going on, the conversations continued.
The Guernsey man, having probably a scent for Bibles, approached the American. The latter said to him:
“You know this sea?”
“Very well; I belong to this part.”
“And I, too,” said one of the St. Malo men.
The native of Guernsey followed with a bow and continued:
“We are fortunately well out at sea now; I should not have liked a fog when we were off the Minquiers.”
The American said to the St. Malo man:
“Islanders are more at home on the sea than the folks of the coast.”
“True; we coast people are only half dipped in salt water.”
“What are the Minquiers?” asked the American.
The St. Malo man replied:
“They are an ugly reef of rocks.”
“There are also the Grelets,” said the Guernsey man.
“Parbleu!” ejaculated the other.
“And the Chouas,” added the Guernsey man.
The inhabitant of St. Malo laughed.
“As for that,” said he, “there are the Savages also.”
“And the Monks,” observed the Guernsey man.
“And the Duck,” cried the St. Maloite.
“Sir,” remarked the inhabitant of Guernsey, “you have an answer for everything.”
The tourist interposed with a question:
“Have we to pass all that legion of rocks?”
“No; we have left it to the sou’-southeast. It is behind us.”
And the Guernsey passenger continued:
“Big and little rocks together, the Grelets have fifty-seven peaks.”
“And the Minquiers forty-eight,” said the other.
The dialogue was now confined to the St. Malo and the Guernsey passenger.
“It strikes me, Monsieur St. Malo, that there are three rocks which you have not included.”
“I mentioned all.”
“From the Derée to the Maître Ile.”
“And Les Maisons?”
“Yes; seven rocks in the midst of the Minquiers.”
“I see you know the very stones.”
“If I didn’t know the stones, I should not be an inhabitant of St. Malo.”
“It is amusing to hear French people’s reasonings.”
The St. Malo man bowed in his turn, and said:
“The Savages are three rocks.”
“And the Monks two.”
“And the Duck one.”
“The Duck; this is only one, of course.”
“No: for the Suarde consists of four rocks.”
“What do you mean by the Suarde?” asked the inhabitant of Guernsey.
“We call the Suarde what you call the Chouas.”
“It is a queer passage, that between the Chouas and the Duck.”
“It is impassable except for the birds.”
“And the fish.”
“Scarcely: in bad weather they give themselves hard knocks against the walls.”
“There is sand near the Minquiers?”
“Around the Maisons.”
“There are eight rocks visible from Jersey.”
“Visible from the strand of Azette; that’s correct: but not eight; only seven.”
“At low water you can walk about the Minquiers?”
“No doubt; there would be sand above water.”
“And what of the Dirouilles?”
“The Dirouilles bear no resemblance to the Minquiers.”
“They are very dangerous.”
“They are near Granville.”
“I see that you St. Malo people, like us, enjoy sailing in these seas.”
“Yes,” replied the St. Malo man, “with the difference that we say, ‘We have the habit,’ you, ‘We are fond.’ ”
“You make good sailors.”
“I am myself a cattle merchant.”
“Who was that famous sailor born of St. Malo?”
“Surcouf?”
“Another?”
“Duguay-Trouin.”
Here the Parisian commercial man chimed in:
“Duguay-Trouin? He was captured by the English. He was as agreeable as he was brave. A young English lady fell in love with him. It was she who procured him his liberty.”
At this moment a voice like thunder was heard crying out:
“You are drunk, man!”
IV
Captain Clubin Displays All His Great Qualities
Everybody turned.
It was the captain calling to the helmsman.
Sieur Clubin’s tone and manner evidenced that he was extremely angry, or that he wished to appear so.
A well-timed burst of anger sometimes removes responsibility, and sometimes shifts it on to other shoulders.
The captain, standing on the bridge between the two paddle-boxes, fixed his eyes on the helmsman. He repeated, between his teeth, “Drunkard.” The unlucky Tangrouille hung his head.
The fog had made progress. It filled by this time nearly one-half of the horizon. It seemed to advance from every quarter at the same time. There is something in a fog of the nature of a drop of oil upon the water. It enlarged insensibly. The light wind moved it onward slowly and silently. By little and little it took possession of the ocean. It was coming chiefly from the northwest, dead ahead: the ship had it before her prow, like a line of cliff moving vast and vague. It rose from the sea like a wall. There was an exact point where the wide waters entered the fog, and were lost to sight.
This line of the commencement of the fog was still above half-a-league distant. The interval was visibly growing less and less. The Durande made way; the fog made way also. It was drawing nearer to the vessel, while the vessel was drawing nearer to it.
Clubin gave the order to put on more steam, and to hold off the coast.
Thus for some time they skirted the edge of the fog; but still it advanced. The vessel, meanwhile, sailed in broad sunlight.
Time was lost in these manoeuvres, which had little chance of success. Nightfall comes quickly in February. The native of Guernsey was meditating upon the subject of this fog. He said to the St. Malo men:
“It will be thick!”
“An ugly sort of weather at sea,” observed one of the St. Malo men.
The other added:
“A kind of thing which spoils a good passage.”
The Guernsey passenger approached Clubin, and said:
“I’m afraid, Captain, that the fog will catch us.”
Clubin replied:
“I wished to stay at St. Malo, but I was advised to go.”
“By whom?”
“By some old sailors.”
“You were certainly right to go,” said the Guernsey man. “Who knows whether there will not be a tempest tomorrow? At this season you may wait and find it worse.”
A few moments later, the Durande entered the fog bank.
The effect was singular. Suddenly those who were on the afterdeck could not see those forward. A soft grey medium divided the ship in two.
Then the entire vessel passed into the fog. The sun became like a dull red moon. Everybody suddenly shivered. The passengers put
